


We Always Find Each Other (We Girls With Secrets)

by journaliar



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Bering and Wells AU Week, F/F, Step-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:31:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journaliar/pseuds/journaliar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re not sisters.</p>
<p>Not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Always Find Each Other (We Girls With Secrets)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended for AU week. It's sort of step-cest au where Myka's mom and Helena's uncle get married.

The wedding is beautiful.

It’s also kind of cheesy and a little tedious in the way weddings are but Myka just grins and bears it because her mother is beautifully radiant and Caturanga looks as if he might pass out any second and there’s Tracy who moves like a newborn calf in her high heels, her gait more precarious than even Myka’s. 

She smirks when Tracy wobbles dangerously and threads her arm through Myka’s for balance while the priest declares their mother and charming, intelligent, silly Caturanga, man and wife.

The audience erupts in applause and Myka glances across the altar, pass the groomsman, and at the Best Man, or more precisely, the Best Woman, with her pretty dress and sparkling gaze.

Helena smiles and winks and Myka tightens her hold on her flowers. 

 

***  
Myka watches her finally pop the cork out of the bottle and the uneven trek through the woods behind the reception tent must have shaken the bottle too much because champagne flows up and spills onto Helena’s hand. Myka grins as Helena yelps and then her mouth goes slack when Helena laughs and licks at her knuckles before pouring into the glasses balanced between her legs.

Myka clears her throat, reaching up to touch the flowers woven carefully through her hair and Helena smirks into the quickly filling glass.

“Should we be doing this?” Myka asks, accepting the wet flute tentatively and Helena smiles at her, her leg pressed along Myka’s as they huddle together beneath a wide tree, barefoot in their dresses.

“We’re celebrating.” Helena declares, setting the bottle down and holding up her glass merrily. The setting sun shines through the flute and bubbles and Myka grins. “You and I are officially sisters now.”

“We are.” Myka says while the joyous sounds from the ongoing reception bleed through the trees and fill her ears.

“Cheers.” Helena mutters, gazing at Myka with her magnetic eyes that always, always make Myka’s belly feel like she’s on a rollercoaster that just won’t stop.

“Cheers.” Myka agrees, clinking their glasses together before taking a long sip. She sputters a little, laughing and wiping at her mouth. “The bubbles tickle my nose.”

And then, Helena leans over and kisses Myka.

 

***

They’re not sisters.

Not really.

Helena is Caturanga’s niece, whom he raised since she was an infant and when he marries Jeannie Bering after a whirlwind romance, Helena becomes a step-sister-cousin to the Bering daughters.

The tangled, gnarled branches of the family tree can only do so much to quell the retrospective guilt that comes when Myka thinks about that afternoon after the wedding ceremony, when she drops a hand between her thighs in the middle of the night and thinks of Helena’s hot, champagne flavored mouth.

It’s gross. 

Myka thinks it over and over again, sometimes says it out loud just to jar herself when all she can think about is Helena’s bedroom nestled between hers and Tracy’s in their new home.

It’s gross and her mom is finally happy after so long of being not and Myka won’t ruin it this time like she did last time.

***  
Tracy is fourteen, Myka is seventeen and Helena is two years older, living at home while she attends the local university on a well deserved academic scholarship. 

She is often busy and moving, buzzing in and out of the house with freedom that Myka and Tracy aren’t afforded. But sometimes she slows down enough to make eyes at Myka, sometimes hungrily, sometimes questioningly, always invitingly and it drives Myka a little mad. Sometimes Helena stays close to home, close to Myka and that drives Myka legitimately insane. 

Because Helena is brilliant, way smarter than Myka. She’s also bright and captivating and despite how hard Myka digs in her heels, she’s drawn like a moth to Helena’s radiance.

She’s watching Helena and Caturanga play chess in the dining room from the relatively covert position on the living room couch with her partially finished homework forgotten on the coffee table when Tracy catches her.

“Don’t. Don‘t look at her like that.” Tracy warns sternly, quietly, as she passes through with a full laundry basket on her way to the garage. “Not her.”

And Tracy was the only one who Myka told, the only one Myka cautioned about the way her stomach and chest feel around certain girls, the one who stood in front of her cowering form while blood gushed from the gash above her eye and their father stood huffing and puffing with the pages of Myka’s journal in his fist and blood on his wedding ring where it split open Myka’s face.

“I-I’m sorry.” Myka whispers, standing and heading up to her room. 

“Honey, are you alright?” Her mother asks as they pass on the stairs and Myka rubs at the scar at her eyebrow before hugging her tightly.

***  
“Do you ever miss your father?” Helena wonders innocently as she dries the clean, damp dishes Myka hands her.

Their hands keep touching, sliding wetly against one another and Myka blinks down at the raised hair along her arms, listen to her mother and Caturanga laughing lowly in the living room and shakes her head.

“Never.”  
***

Myka flees school with a relentless migraine drilling into the back of her skull and when she shuffles through the front door of the house, the fiery pounding at her nape, behind her ears, only gets worse when she walks in on Helena tangled around another girl on the sofa.

Myka stammers out an apology, looking away from half unbuttoned shirts and skirts pushed up around hips, and takes the stairs two at a time to her room.

She doesn’t cry but her eyes feel gritty as if she had and she just buries herself in her bed, under pillows and blankets and wonders what it would be like to be swallowed up whole.

The sound of the front door opening and closing comes a surprisingly short time later followed by measured footsteps up the stairs and a knock on her bedroom door.

Myka remains silent, stewing in a tangle of jealousy and want that she cannot even define but the door opens anyway and then the bed is giving way under Helena’s weight as she lies down on top of the bedding beside Myka.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Myka whispers from beneath a mound of covers and Helena begins peeling away the layers until Myka is looking into dark eyes.

“I should’ve exercised more modesty.” Helena murmurs and Myka stares at her mouth, while her head pounds in time with her heart.

“I want that with you.” Myka admits quietly and Helena lifts a hand, smoothing it across Myka’s shoulder and up her neck to massage the tight tendons there, like she knows Myka is splitting apart at the seams.

“You can have it.” Helena says simply and Myka doesn’t wonder what it would feel like to be swallowed whole anymore.

***

“Have you seen this filth?” Her father had demanded, clutching torn out pages of Myka’s journal, pages of Myka, in his wide hands when her mother found them all in the back corner of the bookstore.

Myka on her knees on the floor with glazed over eyes and lines of bright red blood crawling down her face. Her father looming, radiating anger and disappointment and disgust while the same bright red dripped from his knuckles. And Tracy, with narrow shoulders squared, standing between them.

“Have you?”

And Myka had never really considered her mother strong, especially when it came to her father but Myka watched, in that moment, as Jeannie stood fearlessly in front of her daughters and told Warren to leave, eyes never straying to crumpled pages in his hand. The pages that Myka couldn’t look away from.

Now, Myka looks at her mother as she moves easily around the kitchen preparing lunch, at Helena on the other side of the table tapping the keys of her laptop, tapping her foot against Myka’s underneath the tablecloth and she reaches up to trace her scar.

***  
Myka tries.

She tries to heed Tracy’s warning because they’re a family now and its not right to do what she wants to do and Myka doesn’t want to ruin something again. She’s values her mother’s happiness, Tracy’s happiness, this family they’re putting together.

So she tries.

But Helena is a force to be reckoned with and Myka’s not built to weather anything like the hurricane that Helena is.

“Let’s spend the afternoon together.” Helena doesn’t knock, just pushes Myka’s bedroom door open like the pathetic barrier it is and leans into the jam. Myka doesn’t look up from her book, just stares blindly down at the pages. 

“Doing what?” Myka asks, turning the page and tucking her feet beneath the pillows at the head of the bed. 

“Lunch? Perhaps a movie?” Helena says hopefully, moving into the room and kneeling at the foot of the bed so they’re face to face. “My treat.”

“That sound like a date.” Myka says warily and she watches Helena’s hand curl around the edge of the textbook, pulling it off the bed and closing it without saving the page. Myka looks up at Helena, gets immediately lost in her eyes.

“I can keep a secret if you can.” Helena teases and Myka flushes deeply, letting Helena stare into her until Tracy walks by on her way to her own room.

“No thanks.” Myka finally breathes and Helena smiles like she’s said the opposite.

 

***  
Myka likes Caturanga.

He is kind and friendly and doesn’t even attempt to be anything other than a friend and confidant to Myka and Tracy. He and Helena are brilliant together, constantly challenging one another intellectually and it is all Myka can do to keep up.

But sometimes, Myka dreams that its Caturanga standing over her with blood on his hand and crumpled papers in his fist and Helena standing between the two them. 

 

***

"Don't kiss me." Myka whispers because its the middle of the night and the kitchen is dim and Myka is terrified as Helena crowds her against the open refrigerator, the only light in the room shining from its interior.

She'd been so careful lately, minimizing the time she found herself alone with Helena. She's not sure if Helena stumbling upon her in the middle of the night eating Nutella straight from the jar had been an accident at all.

"Why not?" Helena asks with a sharp grin that makes Myka's skin prickle. "Why not when its all I seem to think about?"

There are so many reasons but Myka can't think of any of them as Helena presses close. She reaches out to close the refrigerator, plunging the kitchen into darkness and the scar at Myka's brow aches suddenly.

"This isn't right." Myka whispers even as Helena's soft breath flutters across her mouth. "We're like sisters."

"Myka, don't be silly." Helena says lowly, hand sliding into Myka's hair even as her body pins her against the counter. "We're far more than that."

"I'll ruin it all...I'm going to mess it up again." Myka breathes and thinks about how disappointed Tracy will be, how sad her mother will be.

But then Helena kisses her, presses her lips to Myka fearlessly and tastes the inside of her mouth when Myka gasps.

And Myka wants to push her away, to slap some sense into her because they can't do this. Except they are and Myka is clutching at Helena's clothes while everything spins out of control.

***  
Helena is watching her from one end of the couch and Myka fights to not stare back from the other, keeping her eyes fixed on the television as some movie plays on the screen.

Tracy is sprawled out on the floor, obliviously absorbed in the movie while Myka presses her lips together and Helena looks and looks and looks.

"Myka, can you come set the table?" Her mother calls from the kitchen and Myka springs up gratefully, stepping over Tracy.

She's only a step inside the kitchen when she hears Tracy say quietly, warningly, "Has Myka ever told you how she got that scar above her eye?"  
***  
Myka knows that this is not what Tracy wanted to happen when she told Helena about their father, about his eyes on Myka’s journal and his angry hands lashing out at Myka.

Myka’s twin bed creaks quietly and all she can do is try to breathe as Helena’s body weighs her down against the mattress and Helena stares down at her quietly.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” Myka points out even though she wants her to stay forever. She reaches up absently to rub at her scar but Helena is there, batting her hand away to trace over the puckered skin herself.

She traces it over and over again, her expression unreadable before leaning forward to kiss it softly while Myka’s heart hammers in her chest.

“I’m so sorry.” Helena coos and Myka tries to shrug, blinks away the sting of tears.

“I’m fine now.” Is all she says and Helena kisses her scar again, kisses her cheek then her mouth slow and deep.

“What’re you doing?” Myka whimpers because if anyone found out, if anyone knew that this is how Myka feels about Helena then everything would be ruined. And Helena knows this now but she's still kissing her.

“Can this be our secret?.” Helena murmurs and Myka doesn’t tell her that her last secret burned down her last family and she just got this one. “Because I don’t know how I’ll survive not being able to have you this way.”

"Tracy is going to kill me." Myka whispers but she's really only thinking about Helena's magnetic eyes and pretty mouth.

"We won't tell a soul. No one will know." Helena reassures and Myka swallows, lets herself be reassured.

She kisses Myka’s scar and somehow it hurts and soothes all at once, like pressing on a aching muscle, and Myka lifts a hand into her hair, guiding their mouths together with a groan because together they taste like magic.

Myka knows there are secrets you want to keep close to you and there are secrets that you don’t dare reveal and that this is both. She also knows that the best secrets are the most twisted.


End file.
